The Kind of Vending Machine That Eats Your Dollar
by Banisters
Summary: Jack is headed off to college to escape the problems he faced with Dave and Spot, but it seems as if his new roommate, Racetrack, let him forget his life back in New York. [Chapter 8 is up]
1. I Haven't Done It On A Plane

"**Hit the road, Jack, and don't come back no more no more no more no more."  
Out of all the billions of artists out there, they had to play Ray Charles.  
No offense to the guy, I mean, he had talent. I don't know anybody who could make good music and be blind. Except for that guy who used to sing the Rubber Ducky song on Sesame Street.  
Wait. He wasn't blind, was he? Who was the other blind guy? Stevie Wonder? Beethoven? Wait, he was deaf. Crap.**

**I'd ask Dave, but he isn't here. For good reasons. After what happened this summer, well, yeah. We won't be talking for quite a while. Which is why I'm here, in this airport, listening to Ray Charles, reading over the orientation packet for college.  
Oh. Geez.  
Why do they have to play this song?**

**As that weren't bad enough.  
Now I'm in the airport bookstore.  
Except, it's not really a bookstore.**

**All they have are magazines that have stories about Mel Gibson driving drunk and Ashlee Simpson's nose job and TomKat's baby still not making an appearance and Taylor Hicks and all that sort of shit and they don't even mention that cool actor from Batman Begins. Not-a-once. Man. It's times like these that I'm glad I sold newspapers. That stuff was real news. This…this is the kind of stuff that only people who watch High School Musical and love Pete Wentz and cry over songs by Death Cab For Cutie would read. Ugh. It makes me sick. Except, not really, because I'm not throwing up my Poptarts from this morning yet. Ew. They weren't even good Poptarts…They were like, you know, the kind without any frosting and they were all crumbly because I got them from Skittery and I guess the lesson here is don't ever accept Poptarts from Skittery.**

**So.  
Anywho.  
Uh…I lost my Segway of thought.  
Yes, _Segway_, of thought.  
Trains really aren't as good as they seem. It takes about ten hours to get from one place to-**

**OH NO SHUT UP.  
I remembered what I was going to say.  
I was on Facebook the other day (it is a whole lot better than Myspace, really, Myspace is for twelve year old whore girls who wear too much eyeliner) and I found out who my roommate is. He's some guy who calls himself Racetrack. Turns out he is actually from New York, but he didn't go to Stuyvesant, which is why I never knew him. When I get off the plane I'm gonna e-mail Blinkers and Mush-face and see if they know him. They know _everyone._ Wait. Stop stop stop. Halt. Did I just call Blink and Mush what I thought I did? Oh man, this airport is making me crazy. Sigh. Those two need to call-**

**OH COOL.  
They're calling my cell right now. Hoooold on.**

"**Hello?"**  
"JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK!"  
"_OFF OFF OFF OFF OFF!"_  
"**Oh, clever, guys. It only took you five years to figure out my name can refer to masturbating. I'd give you a thousand points, but the points don't matter. Why are you calling?"**  
"_Because you're leaving us and going to Santa Fe and chances are you're going to get drunk there one night and gets herpes and die and then we'll have to get money and fly there to go to your funeral and-"_  
"Shut up, Blink."  
"_Sorry, Cream Of Wheat."_  
"My skin has the complexion of _oatmeal_, not-_"_  
"**Hey, look, if you two are just gonna ramble…or…what…"**  
"Oh, we're not rambling. We just wanted to say bye."  
"_Dave's here too, actually."_  
"**He is?"**  
"_Yeah. Wanna talk to him?"_  
"**Um…I gotta go…"**  
"But you don't have to be on the plane for another 45 minutes."  
"**I have to return some videotapes."**  
"_Jack, if he doesn't talk to you he's totally gonna get mad at us and when Dave gets mad he acts like he has his period."_  
"**Bye guys."**  
"_Jack!"_  
"Off!"  
"_He's gonna be so pissed! What are we gonna say to him?_  
"**Just…say….no…Call me in a couple hours, alright? Bye."**

**Well that was only slightly awful, right?  
Fuck.  
I need Snickers therapy.  
Oh sweet. There's a vending machine over by that janitor bucket full of puke. Lovely.**

**NONONONONO.  
I PRESSED D7, NOT C9. I DON'T WANT _ANIMAL CRACKERS_! I WANT MY SNICKERS.  
COIN RETURN COIN RETURN COIN RETURN COIN RETURN.**

**Screw it.  
This is just the kind of vending machine that eats your dollar.  
Great. Now I'm going to get hypoglycemic and my adrenalin will get out of control and I'll get anxiety on the plane and flip out and the flight crew will think I'm a terrorist and arrest me and I'll be put in jail and get put in a cell next to some little wimpy drug addict who probably is too high to pee straight so there will be urine all over the floor and it will smell gross.**

**Oh wow.  
Run on 'thought sentences'.  
Maybe I have ADHD or something.  
Hmmm.  
I'll consider that while I'm in jail.  
Or on the plane…**

**Alright so now I'm on the plane.  
And like, there's this little 15 year old slut who keeps asking me if I have ever 'done it' on a plane.  
Every time I say "No, I haven't 'done it' on a plane" she keeps scooting closer to me.  
Oh God.  
Make it stoppppp.**

"You know, doing it a plane is more fun than-"  
"**Hey, kid, look, I don't know you. Lay off."**  
"But you could _get_ to know me."  
"**Who says I want to?"**  
"But…I…You are so hot! And so am I. Don't you want to do me?"  
"**No, I don't! And…Christ, what is wrong with you? First of all, you are like…11 and I'm 17. Second of all, for all you know, I could have AIDS or…rabies. Third of all, it's called 'having sex' not 'doing it'!**  
"Doing it sounds better."  
"**SEX, IT'S CALLED GODDAMNED _SEX!_"**  
"Everyone is looking at you, cutie."  
"**Shit."**  
"It doesn't matter though. I still think you're cool."  
"**Fuck shit. Excuse me; can I get my seat changed? This girl is stalking me."**  
"_I'm sorry sir, we're taking off in about two minutes; we can't change your seat."_  
"**But…noooooo…."**  
"You are so adorable when you're pouting."  
"**What can I tell you to make you go away?"**  
"Nothing."  
"**I listen to Fall Out Boy."**  
"I LOVE THEM. PETE WENTZ IS SOOOOOOO HAWT!"  
"**I love High School Musical."**  
"ZAC EFRON IS SUCH A STUD!"  
"**I'm liberal."**  
"ME TOO!"  
"**I like the Yankees."**  
"I CAN'T STAND THE RED SOX!"  
"**I already have a girlfriend."**  
"That sucks for her."  
"**I uh…I have two boyfriends."**  
"Really? That's soooooo hawt!"  
"**Ugh."**  
"Was that a moan? You're so sexy."  
"**I like Batman."**  
"Oh…what? But…But…What about Superman?"  
"**No way, chica. Batman's the real badass."**  
"I guess…I guess we're…not meant to be…"  
"**That's right."**

**Oh boy. This is going to be a looooooong flight.**

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**Author's Note: So here it is, the first chapter of the sequel. Before you leave a bad review, I'd like you to keep this in mind. When I finished writing this chapter I had to save it to a floppy disk to upload it to fanfiction. But it didn't work. So I had to save it to another floppy. And another, and it was still not working. So then I had a total breakdown with swearing and wall punching included (my knuckles are bruised now) Then after crying during a brief period of frustration, I tried saving it to a CD which didn't work. Then I complained to my dad about how we need a jump drive and I would by one myself except I can't because the stupid child labor laws in Virginia don't allow children to work. Then I went upstairs and saved it to another disk and went downstairs to upload it and my dad wouldn't let me on the computer because he was checking his email. So I had another breakdown and told him how these stupid floppy disks were making me bipolar and raising my blood pressure so high that I'm going to have a heart attack when I'm 37. Thank you. (Maybe this little peek into my life can help you understand why Jack acts like he does)**


	2. Trevorcakes!

Race is in **_bold_)  
(Jack is in **_normal_

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**RE:RE  
FROM: Racetrack Higgins****  
TO: Jack Kelly **

**Word has it you're my room mate, and part of the dorm suggestions say I should e-mail you to learn some stuff about you. Keep in mind that I really don't ask shitty questions like this, but they made the people who are already on campus (me) draw questions from a hat. Although, question number one is my own question.**

**1. Do you know Gabriel Conlon?**  
Do _you?_  
-sigh-  
Yes, I know him. I know him a little too well.

**2. What's your name?**  
Technically, it's Francis Sullivan. In sixth grade, this really ugly girl named Frances from…I think…Germany came to our school. People started saying we should go out because we had the same name. But being me, I said, well, no way, because she was homely and I had no idea what "Guten Morgan" meant. So I changed my name to Jack Kelly. Jack is my middle name; Kelly is my mother's maiden name. Also, I mean, if you want, you can call me Cowboy. Although, that name's pro'lly already taken in Santa Fe. So…Jack will do.

**3. What is the meanest prank you have ever pulled?**  
This one time, my friend Skittery was in Starbucks talking to this girl he really liked. My friends Blink and Mush and I saw him and decided to do something pretty awful. See, Skittery can only drink certain coffees; he cannot drink anything with lots caffeine or else it screws up his G.I. tract. Well, Skittery got up for a minute to go get a stirry straw and his girl went to order a biscotti. Blink and Mush and I rushed into the Starbucks and switched Skittery's coffee with his gal pal's. Skitts and the girl sat back down and drank their coffee, and sure enough, about 15 minutes, the caffeine hit Skittery's bowels. Blink went up to him to distract him while I ran into the bathroom and stole all the toilet paper. So then Blink walked away and Skittery ran into the bathroom and Mush was cracking up. So…like…maybe 20 minutes later, Skittery's girlfriend got mad and knocked on the door. And well, our poor boy was probably battling off the last of terrible diarrhea, right? Well, here's the catch. Once he was done, he couldn't leave because I nicked the T.P. Oh man. After about an hour the manager had to unlock the bathroom door and toss him like…three rolls of paper. Cripes, it was hilarious. I think Mush actually got a hernia somehow from laughing so hard, and Blink got an asthma attack, even though he doesn't have asthma, and I almost wet my pants. It was…oh gosh, it was great. And, the best thing is, Skittery forgave us for it. Although, the Starbucks manager didn't…He made us pay for all the Oust he needed to buy for the bathroom. Laugh out loud.

**4. Do you plan on making our dorm room have a theme?**  
Let's hope you don't mind Batman posters covering the walls. Just kidding. But not really. Maybe. I don't know. Would you care?

**5. Do you do the following?  
a) -Smoke: **Not all the time. Like, I don't always have a pack with me or anything, but if you offer me a cigarette, I'd smoke it. It was a habit my buddies and I picked up in the eighth grade. Heh, we were like, the bad kids. Well, okay, maybe not, because we had some ghetto "gangsta" kids in our grade that would just randomly stop in the middle of the hall to like…have…sex…for two seconds…God, they wouldn't move and I got so many tardies because of them that I failed my journalism class.  
**b) -Drink: **Yes, but not to the point of getting drunk. Just…light stuff, like beer. Although, one time I got this guy to buy me a J&B on the rocks.  
**c) -Use Drugs: **I think I might be addicted to Midol. I don't know why I started taking it, but um…now I'm hooked and I can't get off it, which is probably damaging my liver…and my testosterone. And if I had ovaries, I'd probably have ovarian cancer.  
**d) -Have Unsafe Sex: **Unsafe? Only…um…twice. All the other times were fine. Yes.

**6. What part of New York did you live in?**  
Manhattan, biznatch. No offense to wherever you live, but the truth is, Manhattan is better than everywhere else. In NYC, that is. Santa Fe is even better than Manhattan.

**7. What kind of music do you listen to?**  
Um…bands like The Bloodhound Gang, The Strokes, The Foo Fighters, The Mars Volta, etc. Oh wow. All the bands I like have "The" in them. Whoa. Far out. No, really, besides them I like Huey Lewis and the News and Duke Ellington. And country, sort of. I mean, I like Santa Fe, but like…the music and I don't really…mix. Like oil and water. Or…two opposite poles. Or…uh…even…Jessica Simpson and Dane Cook.

**8. What school did you go to?**  
Stuyvesant. Haha, yeah, the gifted and talented school. I can't believe practically all my friends and I got in because we are definitely not gifted. But we're talented, like, my friend Mush knows how to do a back flip and Blink can actually lick his elbow and Skittery can make great-tasting grilled salmon and Boots is amazing at ping pong and Swifty pwns at drawing porno (yes, _drawing_ it with a pencil!) and Dutchy can count to twenty seven in Dutch and Specs is good at fixing guinea pig cages and Bumlets has the ability to read upside down and Pie Eater can eat lots of pies and Snoddy and Jake are good are doing laundry and I have good leadership skills or something like that. The only person I'm not surprised got in for the "gifted" part is my…uh…best friend who isn't my friend anymore whose name starts with "D" and ends with "avid".

**9. Are you eating anything right now?**  
Yeah, actually. Alphabet Vegetable Beef Noodle soup. Oh, wait a sec, I want to spell out things with the noodle letters. Mmmph, okay, I found a "y" and I just ate it. Kay, I found a "d" and an "a". And now I just ate an "e" and a "v". Help me spell it out. Yadev? Veyad? Avedy? Davey? Oh. Nevermind. UGH. SOMEONE IS SPYING ON ME AND PUTTING NOODLE LETTERS IN MY SOUP THAT ARE SPELLING OUT STUFF FROM MY PAST TO MAKE ME CALL PEOPLE I DIDN'T TALK TO AT THE AIRPORT ON MY CELLUAR DEVICE THAT I DO NOT FEEL LIKE CALLING BECAUSE LONG DISTANCE IS REALLY EXPENSIVE AND THAT IS MY EXCUSE SO DON'T PESTER ME ABOUT IT BECAUSE LIFE HAS NOT BEEN ESPECIALLY GOOD TO ME, YOU KNOW. I'm done. Actually, let me throw out this soup first. OH BUT IT COSTS $4.37 PER CAN. What should I dooooooo? Word of advice, never buy soup at an airport.

**10. How was your flight?**  
Whoa, I had my elbow on the "enter" key and just realized it so I had to spend two minutes and forty seven seconds getting the tabs and spacing in place. Um, my flight? That's a weird question. It was pretty smooth, except, I had to sit next to this girl who I swear wanted to rape me. Yeah, not a pretty picture. We hit some turbulence at one point and she took got all scared and grabbed on to me and I found two Xanax in my pocket to gave them to her (by means of body shots…ugh…don't ask) and she and fell asleep, so everything was okay. I just watched some Doogie Howser stuff on YouTube on my friend's laptop until we landed. Ha, I stole this laptop from Skittery. He should be calling me in a few minutes when he realizes it. Ah, he's calling right now! I'm just gonna send this and answer the rest of the questions later. By the way, I'm typing this from a bench near the airport…just…yeah…Gotta go.

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"I don't see what you're so worried about, Skitts."

Blink leaned back into the girth of my beanbag chair, making the polyester beads inside release a loud _whoosh_. I stared vacantly down at the Scrabble board in front of me, unconcerned about the rip in the back of the beanbag that would soon spew its contents all over the rug. Blink yawned and stretched himself out.

"I'm not worried," I replied as I reached into the bag of letter tiles. "I'm just…skittish."

"Same thing," Blink said. "But you know, you _are_ overreacting about this."

I glanced down at my hand and became disappointed at the site of a "C", "A", "K", "F", "U" and an "L". _Shit_.

"I'm not overreacting."  
"Fine. Then at least accept that you're in denial."  
"About overreacting?"  
"About Jack taking your laptop to college."  
"That's not being in denial, Blink. That's just being mad."  
"SEE, YOU'RE DENYING IT!"  
"You're such a loserface."

Blink got out of the beanbag and sauntered over to the couch. His eye drifted down at the Scrabble board to see if I made a move. Seeing that I hadn't, he scowled and sat down beside me. I grabbed my letters from the coffee table surface before he could look at them.

"I mean, seriously Skitts. You're drowning out your anger by forcing me to play Scrabble with you. You've hit rock bottom, buddy."  
"This is coming from the guy who made me listen to watch pirate movies for eight hours when he didn't get a part in _Treasure Island_?"  
"Hey, don't insult pirates. Besides, I just sat there reading the script, I wasn't _bitching_ the whole time like you are."

I sighed and placed my letter tiles on the board. Blink rolled his eyes when I finished spelling at my word.

"How creative. I think spelling out the F word is against the rules, though."  
"I don't care about the rules. I just got a Triple Word Score," I said as Mush walked into the room. He raised an eyebrow at us and flopped down on the beanbag chair, which practically vomited its beads out under Mush's weight.

"WHAT THE HELL? WHY DID YOUR CHAIR JUST EXPLODE?" he yelled, leaping up and landing on the floor.  
I ignored him and continued speaking.

"I bet you Jack is a kleptomaniac or something. Christ, he's always messing with me, you know? Like that time at Starbucks."

Blink stifled a laugh and looked away. Mush collapsed on the carpet, his hand on his navel, laughing insanely and mumbling something about a hernia. I gave them a look and began counting up the Scrabble score.

"So when is Dave coming over?"

They both continued cackling.

"Great, now I'm talking to myself. I'll just call him or-"

"OHMYGOD, BLINK! REMEMBER HOW ALL THE PEOPLE LEFT THE STARBUCKS BECAUSE OF THAT?"  
"YEAHYEAH, MUSH! AND REMEMBER HOW SKITTERY HAD TO DRINK ALL THAT PEPTO-BISMOL AFTERWARDS?"  
"THATWASSOFUNNY!"

"You two are assholes. I'm going to call David. Oh wait. _Shit._ He went to MIT two hours ago. I forgot."

"HOLYPIE, BLINK! I CAN'T BELIEVE SKITTS ACTUALLY FELL FOR THAT!"  
"TREVORCAKES I KNOW!"

"Guys, who are we gonna hang out with?" I groaned.

"WHAT IS A TREVORCAKE?"  
"I HAVE NO IDEA, MUSH!"

"Okay, that's it. I'm going to go find Spot."

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**A/N: Um yeah. This chapter was just for fun, it doesn't go anywhere. So, read, don't read, review, don't review, take a left, take a right, do whatever. Just as long as you found the chapter somewhat funny is all that matters.**


	3. Boobhead

**Racetrack's Xanga:**

My roommate finally got to the campus today. I was in our dorm when he showed up. Jesus Christ, he was blown away by Santa Fe. Not the College of Santa Fe, but the city itself. He kept on saying how it was just how he dreamed. Yeah right, more like _wet dreamed_. I've never heard anyone talk with so much passion about a city like that…That is, except, for me babbling about New York. Now that's a _real_ city. It turns out my roommate (Francis or Jack or Cowboy, I didn't ask what he wanted to be called) is from Manhattan. It's weird; he doesn't really have an accent. It sounds sorta fake and exaggerated and I swear he says certain words with a British accent.

Anyways. Here's the thing. He was unpacking his stuff and I jokingly tossed a TV remote at him. Although, I didn't really toss it, I threw it quite hard. It caught him square in the forehead and he fell down. I looked down at him and he had this HUGE bump on his head that was bleeding a bit. Francis-Jack-Cowboy stood up and looked at himself and the mirror and flipped out. He didn't seem angry, just…alarmed. This is a bad way to start a friendship, isn't it?

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My roommate whipped a remote at my head and now the bump is swollen and it looks terrible and I'm sure there are some perverts in this hospital that are considering feeling up my forehead because it looks like a boob and I think that's not illegal and OH MY GOD.

A BOOB.

I HAVE A BOOB ON MY HEAD.

A MAMMARY GLAND THAT FEEDS INFANTS _ON MY FOREHEAD._

OH GOD.

I hate being in the hospital. I'm in the ER waiting room, and it's nothing like the last time. Last time there were like…doctors everywhere. Like…I'm pretty sure I saw Patrick Dempsy and George Clooney and Hugh Laurie in the hospital back home. But here…it's like…a shitty soap opera hospital. In other words, that nurse's sister's husband has an evil twin who slept with his old girlfriend who is now struggling with a rare disease that was diagnosed by a man who everyone thinks is dead due to a rock climbing accident but he is actually alive and his brother is dating that first nurse I mentioned. And um…Maybe I'll toss in some dramatic facial expressions and horrible dialogue and tight black T-shirts.

BUT SERIOUSLY.

I've been in this waiting room, typing on Skittery's laptop for five minutes now, and I'm already freaking out.

THIS IS ALL RACETRACK'S FAULT.

Stupid little Italian.

I BET HE LOVES SPAGHETTI AND GARLIC BREAD AND MEATBALLS AND GAMBLING AND HIS DAD HAD A ROLE IN _THE GODFATHER_ AND HE TALKS WITH HIS HANDS AND WAS THE INSPIRATION FOR _SUPER MARIO_ AND-

Okay, I'm done.

-sigh-

The only good thing is that I'm in Santa Fe now.

It is so uberly awesome amazing beautiful fantastic brilliant stunning glorious breath-taking heart-stopping gorgeous magnificent wonderful dazzling remarkable spectacular astonishing fabulous…

I could go on and on and on for at least a thousand words, but I don't have a thesaurus with me.

But gosh.

This place is like…I dunno…It feels like home. Like I'm _meant_ to be here, like it's my destiny. Ew, I sound like a crappy poem.

-CONTENTSIGH-

I wonder if everyone back in New York is feeling as awesome as I am.

With the exception of the boob protruding from my skull.

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**Dear Jack,**

Lies hurt. They hurt a lot more than anything. So when I told you I was fine, that I just wanted to be friends, it hurt. I'm a liar, and I lied to make you feel better, I lied so you could go off and continue dating her. I lied so you'd be happy. But I lied to myself, too. I convinced myself that I was okay; I convinced myself that I'd find someone else. You know how familiar those words are? Find someone else? I've heard them before when I was dating her. She's a slut, you'll find someone else. I did, I found you. I thought you were that someone. But I'm not sure anymore. I'm sure that you aren't a jerk, though. When you first told me about her, I was kind of upset, but I was hoping you'd cheat on her. I know that's a spiteful thing to believe in, and I'm sorry.

As time progressed you still mentioned her, but I was still thriving on false hope. Have you ever completely depended on false hope? Like, as a kid I'm sure you did. When you hear that it might snow, and there's only a 10 percent chance, but you still believe it will happen? Yeah, that's false hope, and for the past few months I've been living on it, it's the air I breathe.

But sometimes you run out of air, sometimes false hope fades into nothing, sometimes I can't breathe. Right now I can't. I'm breathless, and I have to adapt to not having false hope. Meaning, I can't go on believing that it's going to snow, I can't go on believing that maybe what happened on Friday will happen again. There won't be any precipitation; it's not going to work.

And if somehow some cloud produces a flake, it's going to melt. If somehow we end up together, something will go wrong. That snowflake is going to melt and become water eventually. The temperature will rise; someone will make a mistake…Probably me. Why? I've screwed up other things, I've caused tundra to melt, and I've caused my relationships to end. Hopefully there wont' be a forecast, hopefully there won't be any chance of snow at all. That way there won't be any false hope. I wish I could go on living without lying to you and myself. I want to clear up the lies. So here we go.

I like you a lot, I might love…No. Loved. Not love. Not anymore. I liked what happened on last night; I liked the feeling that someone actually gave a damn about me. Do know what it's like living in the shadow of someone successful? They bask in the sun while you sit in the shade. In other words, I've lived in the darkness of my friend's glory all my life. People are always flaying me; my friends, my family, and even folks I don't even know. Their yelling kills almost as much as lies. It bites and stings like a rabid animal. How would you like it if the people who are supposed to believe in you, think you're an unsuccessful idiot? Yeah, you wouldn't like it. But this isn't about them, it's about me. Ha, reread that. Me me me. That's what I am, I finally realized it. I'm sensitive moron who craves sympathy as much as false hope.

Basically, I live off pity. Why? Maybe it's because I feel I can't get people to notice me without them patting my shoulder and telling me everything will be alright. Wait, not telling. Lying. They lie when they say that. Things get better, but then they get worse. Is there such a thing as being truly happy? Yeah. But it doesn't last. Like that snow I mentioned. It melts. And that air. Does that really last? False hope doesn't get polluted…Or does it? Yeah, the smog of false hope is reality. It smothers all the oxygen until nothing's left, like right now. Suffocation, they call it. No. I call it heartbreak.

**No longer yours truly,**

**Spot**

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**Dear Jack,**

How is Santa Fe?  
MIT is alright, and classes start Tuesday.  
I just wanted to let you know that I'm thinking about you. A lot.  
I miss you, Jack. I miss you and everyone else back home and I just can't stand not being able to talk to you.

**---David**

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"OHMYGOD! SKITTERY SKITTERY SKITTERY!"

"What, Mush?"

"THERE'S A SPIDER ON THE COUCH!"

"Geez."

"SKIIIITTTTERRRRRYYYY!"

"Okay okay, I'll get it."

"OHMYGOD!"

"What?"

"WHY DID YOU KILL IT?"

"What was I supposed to do?"

"WHAT KIND OF SPIDER WAS IT?"

"I dunno, a normal spider."

"A WHAT? A WOLF SPIDER?"

"_No."_

"A BROWN RECLUSE? A BLACK WIDOW?"

"Why are you still yelling?"

"I don't like spiders."

"You don't like anything."

"I like Taco Bell."

"Gosh…I'm going to go watch 20/20."

"WHAT IF THERE IS ANOTHER SPIDER ON THE COUCH?"

"Sit on the coffee table."

"But it has coasters on it."

"Then move them."

"What if they have spiders under them?"

"That's like saying there's an axe murderer in the crisper of the fridge."

"YOU HAVE AN AXE MURDERER IN THE CRISPER? WHAT'S A CRISPER?"

"Ugh…shut up."

"You're mean."

"You're afraid of spiders. We all have our differences. Now let me watch 20/20."

"Go be a Skittery."

"…is that…supposed to be…insulting?"

"Maybe."

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**A/N: TERRIBLE chapter, I know, but hey, I have like...the flu, gimme a break. Hopefully the plot will be hitting full throttle soon. As always, read or skim, review or don't, just as long as something in this chapter made you smile or laugh.  
**


	4. Papa John & Gyllenhaal: Club Time!

**Dear Spot,**  
Look. See. Visualize. Use your retinas and your pupils and your corneas. Except with your brain. Even though you need your brain to see. FORGET IT. Just picture this.  
You know that snow you talked about? And that metaphor you used? Haha. Metaphor sounds like meteor. THAT REMINDS ME OF DINOSAURS. I liked the Allosaurus. He was really cool, you know. He was sorta like a T. Rex but I think he was smaller. OH. ANYWHO.  
My point is.  
There may be snow back in New York, but here in New Mexico it doesn't snow at all.  
Just let that sink in.  
**Sincerely, Jack.**

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**Dear David,**  
Go get yourself a Roget's thesaurus and look up "great". All the synonyms for it, that's how Santa Fe is.  
Classes start on Tuesday here too.  
If you miss everyone so much, ring Skittery. He'll probably go up and visit you since he's going to a local school and doesn't need to be on campus until Thursday. Actually, he probably won't just visit, he'll stay. Blink and Mush are driving him crazy.

**Sincerely, Jack.**

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"Cowboy-Jack-Francis?"

"Yes, Fettuccini- Alfredo?"

"Sorry about hitting you in the head."

"Oh no, it's alright. It's just, now I feel that I need to do a walk for breast cancer because of this thing on my head. You know, like, now that I have one I should support-"

"Stop trying to be funny."

"I am funny. Stop trying to be…"

"Apologetic?"

"Whatever, Racetrack."

"Loser-face."

"What's that?"

"_Loser-face."_

"Prick-femur."

"Idiot-clavicle."

"Dork-Pancreas."

"Jerk-Humerus."

"Fatty-Thyroid."

"I AM NOT FAT."

"Pfft. Yes you are. Go eat some stomach parasites and maybe you'll lose weight, _Racetrack._"

"At least I don't have herpes, _Jack._"

"WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK I'M GONNA GET HERPES?"

"Because you _have it_."

"NO I DON'T."

"Spot said you did."

"Spot Conlon?"

"Obviously. I asked about him in that stupid questionnaire I sent you."

"WHY DOES SPOT THINK I HAVE HERPES?"

"Eh."

"DOES SPOT HAVE HERPES?"

"Eh."

"DOES HE?"

"Eh."

"STOP TRYING TO BE _CANADIAN_ AND _ANSWER ME._"

"Ask Spot."

"But I just sent him a letter and it's sort of mean but only sort of but when he reads it he'll get upset and-"

"Spot was right. You _are_ a drama queen."

"I'm not a queen. I'm a king, a _king!_ A king of New York, as a matter of fact."

"You are _not_. It's _my_ city, _Jack._"

"Shut up and go make me a pizza."

"Don't stereotype me!"

"I'll stereotype you all I want!"

"Labels are for soup cans!"

"NO THEY ARE _NOT_! HOW WOULD YOU LIKE BEING A CAN OF TOMATO AND BEING LABELED AS CHICKEN NOODLE?"

"OH SHUT UP. GO TALK TO THE DIRECTOR OF BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, _JACK!_"

"…What?"

"You _are_ a gay cowboy, aren't you?"

"No…………who……told you………that?"

"Oh, can't think of a comeback, huh?"

"I've already said everything offensive I can think of."

"You disgust me."

"Your mom disgusts me."

"Stupid-Tibia."

"Freak-Patella."

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**Racetrack's Xanga:**

Jack is getting on my nerves. He's so…Irritating. He makes even the simplest things so complicated. For example, today, I tried to say sorry for hitting him in the head and he went psycho. It was _nuts_. Or almonds and walnuts and pistachios, as Jack would say.

That's another thing, he changes perspectives and…I don't know how to describe it. He can't just say something like…um…Okay, I thought of something.

Average person: "Do we have any lemonade left?"

Jack: "Is there any of that crappy beverage made with sodium injected lemon powder still around?"

It is almost like he is trying to be smart. You know, like one of those kids who has to be nerdy and technical. The only exception is that Jack isn't nerdy. He can pull off all this nonsense and no one else on campus has even considered the fact that he is a weirdo.

I just remembered _another_ weird habit. He _sniffs_ all the time. Just, like, casually. It's kind of like hanging around with someone who has a cold. They sniff all the time, but eventually it just becomes…normal. Maybe he just has some mucus production problem. Although, it's really a dry sniff, as if there isn't anything in his nose but air. I don't get him. No one else has noticed that either.

Oh well. He and I are going to a club tonight with some other people from our dormitory. We're going to check out fraternities tomorrow, and this is sort of a way to break the ice with other freshman so we can all figure out who we'll be spending the next four years with.

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Jack hesitantly stepped into the club, uncertain about how to act. He'd been to plenty of parties in high school, but this was his first experience without one of the newsies by his side. He peered around, a bit dazed by the seizure inducing lighting and smoky air, searching for a familiar face. Irrationally disappointed by the absence of Spot or Blink, Jack felt the urge to approach the exit. He turned around, preparing an excuse for why he was leaving to the other freshmen, but instead found himself face to face with Racetrack.

"Where are you going?" Racetrack inquired, aggravation muffling any gram of concern he might have felt.

"Crazy," Jack responded dryly as he made an attempt to get past him.

"You can't," Race said.

"Who says?" Jack growled.

"Here's your option. You either go back to the dorm…"

"Or what?"

Race placed his hands on Jack's shoulders and turned him around.

"…Or you get laid," he suggested, pointing to a blonde girl in front of them who was participating in a body shots session with sophomore from their dorm. She was obviously at least five years older than both of them, although Race didn't see this as an obstacle. She made eye contact with Jack and smiled flirtatiously, but Jack didn't return the grin.

"Antonio-Mozzarella-Papa John…" Jack whined. "I can't…do that."

"Sure you can, Roy Rogers-Jake Gyllenhaal," Race encouraged, giving Jack a push towards the girl. She shoved the sophomore away from her and put her drink down, now interested in Jack Kelly's handsome features. Jack looked pleadingly back at his roommate, but before he could pout, the girl had wrapped her arms around his neck seductively.

"I'm Jack," he said quickly, suddenly reminded of Spot, David, and Sarah back in New York. He lifted her fingers off his neck, but she simply put them back.

"I'm Keira," she replied. Her voice was sharp, almost cutting off Jack's introduction, which got him thinking that all she really cared about was sex. As if to answer his thoughts, Keira dragged Jack to the back of the club, with the intention of privacy, although there truly wasn't any. Jack coughed awkwardly when Keira reached for his zipper.

"What's the matter?" she hissed, frustrated at this freshman's reluctant behavior.

"I don't know. Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome, maybe?"

"…Acquired _what?_" Keira asked.

"Oh God. You don't happen to have a sister who was on a plane a few days ago coming from New York, do you?"

"Huh? Uh…yeah…Her name is Natalie…Do you know her?"

"Um…Sort of."

"Oh well…she's a slut. Come here."

"Look who's talking."

"Are you calling me a slut?"

"I don't know. Let's see…You must not be, because sluts don't drag boys to the back of clubs and try to pull their jeans off and-"

Before Jack could finish his statement, Keira's hand connected with his cheek, her fingernails raking the flesh of his face.

"Did you just _slap me_?" Jack muttered in disbelief.

"Jerk!"

Jack walked weakly over to Racetrack, who shook his head disapprovingly at him.

"Smooth. If you'd just played it cool, you'd be waking up her in bed tomorrow."

"Who says I _want_ to wake up in her bed, Race?"

"The bulge in your pants does, idiot."

"I don't have a…OH SHIT."

"Haha, Jack. I don't think that-"

"No. Nononononononono!"

"What?"

"This doesn't make _sense!"_

"What doesn't?" Race leaned forward, curious to hear what his roommate had to say.

"None of this!"

"Elaborate."

"I swear, I _fucking swear_, I am going to rip out my pituitary gland. My hormones are jacked up like…something that's…jacked…up…"

"Explain."

"Well, I mean, I was straight for like…ever. And then I wasn't, and then I was, and then I don't even know what the deal was, and then…I just…I thought I'd made up my mind…And…Why am I telling you this?"

"Because you've been needing to talk to someone for the past few months and no one has been there to listen?"

"No. You're wrong. You are wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong. I don't need your help. No. I'm fine."

"Sure you are."

"I _am_."

"Whatever."

"_I'm fine."_

"Yeah. I believe you. You're fine, and that's why Spot and that other kid and his sister are heartbroken. Because _you_ are just _fine._"

"You better shut your mouth before I smash your mandible with a loaf of garlic bread," Jack threatened.

"Oh, I'm so _terrified_. _Garlic bread_. Maybe if I was a vampire, _that would work_," Racetrack sneered as walked out of the club. Jack followed, determined to save his dignity.

"Why do you care?" he asked. "Why do you care about my problems?"

"Spot is my best friend. And you know what, Jack? You changed him. Every time we talked, it was about 'what am I gonna do about Jack?' or 'Does Jack like me?' Now look. I'm not a _queer_ like you, but I care about my friend."

"So," Jack said slowly. "You're…what…trying to set me up with girls…"

"So you don't hurt another guy like you hurt Spot…" Race finished for him.

"Oh."

"_Yeah_."

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**A/N: Sorry for the lack of updating. I had a big project for Civglish and yeah. I've been busy. So um, obviously, this chapter was more serious than funny. But it had to be. So um. Yes. Read. It is good for…school…and…life? Whatever. OH ALSO. Did anyone else ever notice that Jack is always sniffing in a bunch a scenes. He just like 'snort'. Heh. Well. Yeah.  
**


	5. The Ogre

**You have entered chat "190833290898247"**

**Brooklynboy444 has entered the chat.**

**Stuyvesant232 has entered the chat.**

**SantaFe1934: **Did you two get the letters I sent?

**Stuyvesant232:** JACK!

**Brooklynboy444:** JACK!

**SantaFe1934:** Aw, what the hell. I'll join you guys. JACK!

**Stuyvesant232: **You sent us letters?

**Brooklynboy444:** i thought u'd email me or sumpin

**SantaFe1934:** Well did you get them or not?

**Brooklynboy444:** nah

**Stuyvesant232:** No.

**SantaFe1934:** Okay. Spot, when the mailman comes to your house, here's what you gotta do. Start foaming from the mouth and run outside with some sort of weapon like an apple peeler or a bottle or some sort of acid like…Simply Orange and scream obscenities at him and leap at him and grab his mailbag and then eat an envelope and he'll go away.

**Stuyvesant232:** 00

**Brooklynboy444:** we don't have mailmen ne more. we just have little mail slots. did u forget im at union now?

**SantaFe1934:** Well I suppose that's better than the Confederacy…

**Stuyvesant232:** He means Union as in the _college_, Jack. It's in Connecticut.

**Brooklynboy444:** y do i hafta scare my mailman who doesn't exist?

**SantaFe1934:** Because uh…the letter I sent…has…uh…anthrax…in it…

**Brooklynboy444: **…

**Stuyvesant232:** …………………………

**SantaFe1934:** Oh stop with the punctuation, Davey.

**Stuyvesant232:** !!!???:::''';;;""",,,

**SantaFe1934: **Ugh. Grammar freak. Go ad-verb yourself, Dave. Or better yet, go pro-noun your mom.

**SantaFe1934:** Um, but really, Spot, if you get a letter from me in the mail, promise me you'll throw it away.

**Brooklynboy444:** ok i will…………………so…did ne 1 go see that new movie yet?

**SantaFe1934:** The Science of Sleep? Open Season? Employee of the Month? The Departed? The Grudge 2? Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning? The Guardian? The Marine? Flicka? Flags of our Fathers? Man of the Year? Saw III?

**Stuyvesant232:** Jack, you're like MovieFone. What movie are you referring to, Spot?

**Brooklynboy444:** dat 1 wit hugh jackman and scarlette johansson and michael caine and david bowie…and…….dat…other…guy…

**SantaFe1934:** Pfft, what movie are you talking about?

**Brooklynboy444:** the 1…directed by uh…chris nolan…i think

**Stuyvesant232:** I have no idea what movie that is.

**SantaFe1934:** Sounds stupid. You like dumb movies. P

**Brooklynboy444:** oh…ok…i thought it luked good

**SantaFe1934:** Luked? Like…Luked Skywalker?

**Stuyvesant232:** He means "looked".

**SantaFe1934:** Since when do _you_ know what Spot means?

**Brooklynboy444 has left the chat.**

**SantaFe1934:** …Why did he just leave?

**Stuyvesant232 has left the chat.**

**SantaFe1934:** WHY IS EVERYONE LEAVING ME? GUYS COME ON. DON'T MAKE ME LIKE THAT LITTLE KID IN THE CORNER OF THE CLASSROOM WHO ATE HIS BOOGERS BACK IN GRADE SEVEN! THAT GUY WAS A SOCIAL OUTCAST AND HE HAD NO FRIENDS AND PROBABLY ENDED UP AS LIKE…A LOSER…PERSON…OR A WOMAN. IS THAT WHAT YOU GUYS ARE TRYING TO DO TO ME? TURN ME INTO A LOSER-WOMAN? IT'S BECAUSE I HAD A BOOB ON MY HEAD, INNIT? WELL IT'S GONE NOW. EVEN IF I NEVER TOLD YOU ABOUT THE BOOB ON MY HEAD, I BET YOU GUYS ARE LAUGHING ABOUT IT RIGHT NOW. I BET YOU'RE CALLING ME "NIPPLE NOGGIN" OR "TIT TEMPLE". WELL YOU GUYS ARE SICK. SICK SICK SICK LITTLE PERVERTS. SO SICK THAT YOU SHOULD GO TO THE HOSPITAL AND GET AN IV IN YOUR ARMS AND HAVE TO EAT JELLO LIKE I DID A FEW MONTHS BACK. YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO EAT THAT EVERYDAY? IT'S LIKE HIP HOP LYRICS. JELLO THIS JELLO THAT. EVERY SINGLE DAY!

**Skittsavenue has entered the chat.**

**Skittsavenue:** Jack, shut up, you're acting like Blink and Mush.

**SantaFe1934:** Skittery! You have such a crappy screen name, bud.

**Skittsavenue: **I'm leaving. You have no respect. /:P

**Skittsavenue has left the chat.**

**SantaFe1934 has left the chat.**

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_RING! RING! RING! SUMBLINALMESSAGE! RING! RING!_

"Hello, Cooper Avenue speaking."

"When you're drinking a cappuccino deluxe and your bowels start to flux DIARRHEA DIARRHEA!"

"…Blink?"

"Heya Skitts. Since when is your last name Avenue?"

"Since…always…"

"I thought it was Goorjian."

"No. You just made that up a few years ago and never figured out that it wasn't my real last name."

"Oh."

"So…why are you calling? I mean, your dorm room is right down the hall."

"I wanted to see if my phone was working."

"Apparently it is. Where's Mush?"

"He's having an orgy in his room."

"_What?_"

"An orgy, you know, like in Shrek."

"You mean an _ogre?"_

"YEAH!"

"How is he _having _an _ogre_?"

"It's something we made by accident."

"Uh……huh?"

"It's kinda like trifle…except it's chocolate."

"Ohhhhh…It's food?"

"YEAHYEAHYEAH! WANT ONE?"

"I think I'll pass."

"Come on, Skitts, no one can resist an orgy."

"An _ogre. _Not an _orgy_."

"Hahahahaha, yeah, I forgot already."

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**Dear Jack,**

Your father called me today. He's out of jail for the counterfeit money scandal. He had another trial and they found him innocent, apparently. Anyways, he found my cell phone number in your old planner and dialed me up. He wanted to know where you were.

Didn't you tell him you were going to college? I know you and your father weren't extremely close, but he was worried sick about you. I told him you were in Santa Fe, and he doesn't have enough money right now to go out and visit you.

I just wanted to tell you. I hope you'll go back to New York and see him.

**Sincerely, David.**

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He isn't supposed to be out of jail.

No no no no no.

DAD YOU NEED TO BE IN PRISON.

I CANNOT AFFORD TO LEAVE SANTA FE BECAUSE CLASSES JUST STARTED AND IF I GO BACK TO NEW YORK I'LL FAIL MY CLASSES AND GET KICKED OUT OF COLLEGE AND END UP AS A HOMELESS BUM AND SOME DAY WHILE I'M BEGGING FOR CHANGE SOME RICH GUY WILL BE DISGUSTED BY ME AND PROBABLY TRY TO STAB MY EYES OUT.

What am I gonna do what am I gonna do what am I gonna do what am I going to do ASK RACETRACK ASK RACETRACK no no don't do that.

Ew.

I'm typing to myself. This can't be healthy.

asdgdddhfaiohhgasd

Ugh. Here goes.

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"Race, I need to ask you something."

Racetrack froze, pleasantly surprised that Jack had actually called him something other than an Italian stereotype. He turned away from his computer, minimizing his window for Spider Solitaire, before answering. He figured that if Jack took the time to call him _Race_, then something important must be up.

"What?" he said.

"Do you have a father?" Jack inquired. He was sprawled out on the floor of the dorm, reading the back of a box of Midol. Race didn't tolerate how often Jack took the drug, but he decided now wasn't the time to snatch the box away from him. Jack looked up from the _do not take more than three doses in 24 hours_ section and stared at Racetrack, begging him to answer.

"Well…I mean, everyone has a father, Jack. Unless you're a clone."

Jack sighed. His roommate didn't get it.

"No, I mean like…did your father live with you?"

"Yeah," Race replied. He could tell Jack wasn't satisfied with his answer, because he didn't return his attention to his Midol. "Look, Jack…We've already established that I'm Italian. The only rumor I'm going to let you believe is that if you're Italian, family comes first. I have three sisters and one brother, so it's not like my father could just…not live with us."

Jack sighed and continued perusing.

_Consult your doctor if…_

"Do you…um…do you not have a father, Jack?" Race bit his lip, hoping his question wouldn't bring up a sob story or a tragedy.

Jack smirked.

"Everyone has a father, Race."

_Provides relief for backache, bloating, headache, fatigue…_

"Unless you're a clone, Jack."

"Well maybe I am."

"So you don't have a father?

_If you are under 12 years old…_

"I do. He was in jail. Accused for buying something with fake money. And uh…he's out now…And I'm not sure if I should go see him next weekend…or…something."

Race bit his lip while he considered Jack's options.

"If I were you, I'd go see him. But hey, I'm just Italian, what do I know?"

_If you are nursing or pregnant…_

"You know how to make cal-zones. HAHA. Look at this. Why would you take menstrual relief medicine if you're pregnant?" Jack laughed uncomfortably, suddenly changing the subject. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his father or anything, he just had no idea if he liked him or not. He hadn't spent a day with him in what seemed like forever.

"Why would you take menstrual relief medicine if you don't have a uterus?" Race retorted.

"Because I'm a clone," Jack grinned.

**Gawd. I've been wicked busy. I am so sorry for the…what…three weeks…or more of no updates. I know this chapter doesn't cut it. –sigh- I forgot how much time I have to devote to school. But, as always, if something in the chapter made you crack a smile, tell me.**


	6. Back By Popular Demand

**Dear Diary,**

It's been like forever since I've written anything, so here goes. David called me today and said Jack is coming home tomorrow to see his dad or something. I've never met his dad, but Jack said he was a good guy, except he'd hit Jack when he got mad. And, like, at first I didn't believe Jack when he said that because he never seemed like a troubled person, but guess I believe it now, because of how he fucked Spot and Dave and all that. Pardon my French. God. I can't believe he actually asked me to forgive him. Doesn't he know he, like, screwed up my life? Whatever. Skittery and Mush and Blink and I are gonna go out to lunch with him when he gets here (because our college is right here in New York City, in case you didn't know, diary).

So besides the whole Jack ordeal, which is still lingering around, things are pretty good. College is fun. Every Friday night I go over to Mush and Blink's dorm and watch movies while playing drinking games. Like, we were watching this one movie a week ago and the main character was that one guy Jack likes. It was set in the future, and it was a _total_ Matrix rip off. So, anyways, every time the guy shot someone, Mush and Blink and I would drink. And we ended up getting sick because the guy shot like…over one hundred people. Oh my gosh. I woke up the next morning with the worst headache, and I found Blink asleep with his head cocked over the toilet. Mush was already awake and taking a cold shower and doing all these stupid remedies to make the hangover go away. Back when Jack and I were just friends, like, back when we were sophomores, we got wasted at this party one time. I felt _horrible _and he told me to drink a lot of water because dehydration makes hangovers worse. I was okay in like…less than three hours. It helped, I guess.

So, back to the story, Mush and I start drinking all this water, right? Then Skittery shows up and gives us this lecture about how this one athlete man died from drinking too much water. So by then I'm totally freaking out, because I don't know who I should believe: Skittery and Mr. Dying Athlete or Jack and Drink More Fluids. I stopped drinking the water, because I'm trying to get any part of Jack outta my life (which seems weird because I'm meeting him tomorrow…) Four hours later I still felt awful, and Mush was fine because he kept hydrated, and we realized that Blink still wasn't around. We went into the bathroom and it smelled _awful. _Even with his head deep in the bowl, he'd puked all over the place. Skittery got all scared because apparently he has some vomit phobia. Puke is gross and everything, but it's not _scary_. So then Skittery starts crying and crumbles down and Blink wakes up and pukes _again_ and Skittery cries even more and takes Mush's razor from the shower and starts _slashing his wrists. _He was _that _terrified. Skittery is such a baby sometimes. I tried to comfort him but he wouldn't listen. Mush tended to Blink and made him gobble down half a bottle of Tums, which made him even worse. So by then there's throw up all over the floor, there's blood all over the floor, we're all over the floor, and it just _sucks_. I tried to remember what we all did when stuff like this happened before, in high school, and I traced it back to one thing: We got help. We got help from David and Jack and Spot, when they all used to be tight with each other. David would always go and read about our problems, whether it was a case of the flu or a social thing. Spot would motivate us, in a way, like, back to the flu example; he was the type of person who would make hot chicken noodle soup (even though he was a terrible cook). And Jack, he was just…_there_…and it made everything seem a lot better…And I guess he would have had some Ativan that would have calmed everyone down. Jack always had drugs on him.

**Yours truly,**

**Sarah.**

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**1. Are you wearing a necklace?**  
Nope.

**2. Does your computer have a mouse?**  
Nah, it's a laptop. It's Skittery's lol. I wonder if he's still pissed off about me taking it. He prolly is. Oh well, I'll find out tomorrow.OH CRAP.  
The screen just fell backwards.  
I think his laptop is breaking.  
_NO._  
Skittery is gonna tear me apart.

**3. Who are the main people you talk to in your 4th period class?**  
College, we don't have periodddds. HAHA. Periods. That reminds me…Where the hell is my Midol? Gimme a sec.

"RACETRACK!"

"WHAT?"  
"HAVE YOU SEEN MY MIDOL?"  
"I STOLE IT FROM YOU!"  
"WHY?"  
"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT YOU OVERDOSING!"

Ugh, prick. How dare he be concerned. _HOW DARE HE._

**4. Do you like school?**  
I _liked_ school.  
I liked Stuyvesant.  
I miss it.  
It's cool here though. Santa Fe is all insert holy word here, but college itself...eh. It wasn't as epic as people describe it. I don't get drunk every night, I don't get high every night, and I don't get action every night.

**5. What color is your shirt?**  
Brown. It says "Back By Popular Demand" on it, and I'm gonna wear it tomorrow when I go back to New York. Get it?  
'Cause I'm going _back_ to New York? And I'm _popular._  
And people _demand _me.  
Ow.  
Tough crowd, tough crowd.

**6. How many bedrooms do you have in your house?**  
My apartment has one bedroom.  
My dorm has none, just two beds.  
But my bed is cooler than Racetrack's.

**7. What song are you listening to?**  
That old oreo song. "SQUEEZED IN THE MIDDLE. SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE."  
Haha, Racetrack is watching TV.

**8. What was the last mall you've been to?**  
Dude. I haven't been to the mall since I was in Manhattan.

**9. Are you alone?**  
No, stupid, Race is here, watching "The Sopranos."  
He claims he doesn't fit the stereotype and he's watching this show. He's such a liar.

**10. Do you have any older siblings?**  
Nooooooo. I don't.

**11. What is the last thing you ate/drank?**  
OHGODIHAVETOPEEHOLDONASECOND.  
Okay, back, sorry. That was really weird. It burned when I peed. Eh, whatever, I prolly just drank something weird.  
Oh, last thing I ate?  
A Hopocket. And DAMN they are HOT. I burned my lips when I ate it and put an ice cube on them except then that froze to my skin and I tried to pull the ice off my lips and it wouldn't come off and I had to wait until it melted.

**12. Who was the last person to come over to your house?**  
Well some other freshman named Vince was here a little while ago. As for my house back home...my dad is there right now.And rats…I guess.

**13. Who was the last person to call you?**  
Sarah because she wants to know if I'll eat lunch with her when I go back to Manhattan. YES I WILL.

**14. Who was the last person who texted you?**  
My phone doesn't have texting.  
I mean, it does, but I'm to cheap to pay for it.

**16. What should you be doing?**  
Packing my stuff for when I go tomorrow…but I don't want to.

**17. Who is the last person you IMed?**  
Spot and Dave and Skittery.

**18. Did you go out to eat yesterday?**  
No.

**19. What are you thinking about right now?**  
"I'm sleepy."

**21. What color is ur keyboard?**  
Black.

**22. do you feel like eating/drinking?**  
No.

**23. Are you in college?**  
College of Santa Fe, baby.

**24. What is the last word you wrote?**  
Baby.

**25. Are you bored?**  
Somewhat.

**26. How many teeth do you have?**  
All of them. Blink always made fun of me because my canines overlapped.

**28. Do you wear glasses?**  
Ew glasses are for nerds...and Dutchy and Specs. HAHA. YOU TWO ARE _NERDS_.

**29. What color are your shoes?**  
Black.

**31. Last thing you drank?**  
…Didn't I already answer that?

**34. Who do you love?**  
DON'TASKMETHAT.

**35. What are you doing right now?**  
Watching Race watch "The Sopranos". Backseat TV-ing.

**37. What are you looking at now?**  
My foot. I have very nice feet, actually. They have a pretty contoured arch…Yeah. Sorry.  
I just remembered that thing that people say about big feet and I realized my feet are only like…size 11…Aw crap.

**38. What are the last words you said?**  
Me: "Race, TURN THE VOLUME DOWN. I can't hear myself type!"  
Race: "SHUT UP JACK. I can't hear what this guy is saying!"  
Me: "FUCK YOU."  
Race: "No thanks, want me to call Spot so can he do it for you? Or how about Dave? Maybe both and you guys can have a threesome!"  
Me: "I HATE YOU."  
Race: "Love you too. NOW SHUT UP I'M MISSING THIS IMPORTANT SCENE!"

URGH. ANNOYING.

**39. Do you have lip gloss on?**  
Ew, I'm not a fag.  
\Race: "YES YOU ARE."  
Me: "SHUT UP."

**40. Do you have eyeliner on?**  
SCENESTER.  
Hell no.  
Again, not a fag.

**41. What are your plans for tonight?**  
idk.  
Sleeping.

**42. Do you have a cut on your pointer finger?**  
No. Cutting is for emo people.

**43. Where is your cell phone?**  
Under a pile of my clothes...haha.

**44. Do you have any friends named Robby?**  
No?

**46. Do you have any friends named Nikki?**  
Nah-uh.

**47. Are you afraid of the dark?**  
Nope.

**48. Did you used to watch "Are you afraid of the dark?**  
Yeah. I miss the 90's.

**49. Do you like someone right now?**  
Gosh I don't know.

**50. Which person of the opposite sex are you thinking of?**  
Pfft. Fuck off.

-----------------  
-----------------  
-----------------

**Stuyvesant232 has signed on.**

**Brooklynboy444 has signed on.**

**Stuyvesant232: **Hey Spot. I know you and I aren't exactly…uh…friends…but what's up?

**Brooklynboy444: **nm. u?

**Stuyvesant232:** Not a whole lot, I suppose. I'm actually back home right now. We have a four day weekend at MIT.

**Brooklynboy444: **rly? we hav a 3 day wknd at union. i'm coming home tomorrow.

**Stuyvesant232: **That's neat. Hey, did you hear about Jack? He's leaving Santa Fe for a few days to come visit his father. He's out of jail.

**Brooklynboy444: **srsly?

**Stuyvesant232: **Yeah! I can't wait. Skitts and Mush and Blink and my sister and I are going to hang out with him.

**Brooklynboy444:** aw, i wanna cum!

**Stuyvesant232:** …I think you may have spelled that wrong…People might get the wrong impression if you spell "come" like that.

**Brooklynboy444:** lol yea perv

**Stuyvesant232:** I mean…I guess…you could come…If you want to…

**Brooklynboy444:** i'm not gonna bother u or anything dave

**Stuyvesant232:** Well…alright.

**Brooklynboy444: **gosh. we havnt seen jack since lyk…august…

**Stuyvesant232:** I know! I miss him.

**Brooklynboy444:** me 2…hey…dave?

**Stuyvesant232:** Yes, Spot?

**Brooklynboy444:** wut was jack like around u? lyk…i no u 2 were best friends b4 everything…

**Stuyvesant232:** I don't really remember what we used to be like…As friends, I mean. He was always kind of…I'm not sure, I guess…more…dominant. Almost like he was some big superhero and I was a sidekick. Batman and Robin, he always used to say. But I think that's just because he had a Dark Knight fetish.

**Brooklynboy444:** wow. it was exactly opposite wit me and him

**Stuyvesant232:** …How do you mean? Like…Superman?

**Brooklynboy444:** no! rofl…u no wut? i'm just gonna say it. wut was it lyk when u 2…uh…did it?

**Stuyvesant232:** I'm not sure if I feel comfortable talking about that right now.

**Brooklynboy444: **oh. u c…when we…u no…he was lyk…submissive

**Stuyvesant232:** Um…

**Brooklynboy444: **lyk…i was in control…

**Stuyvesant232: **I wouldn't be surprised. You, Gabriel Conlon, King Of Brooklyn.

**Brooklynboy444:** i didnt lyk it tho…i didnt lyk having 2 do the work

**Stuyvesant232:** Ew. Honestly, I'd rather not talk about this.

**Brooklynboy444:** but it sounds lyk he was in control when he was wit u

**Stuyvesant232:** Maybe…

**Brooklynboy444:** …was he…on top?

**Stuyvesant232:** Excuse me?

**Brooklynboy444:** nvm. i just wanted 2 no.

**Stuyvesant232:** Okay then…

**Brooklynboy444: ** srry. its been on my mind.

**Stuyvesant232:** Uh-huh.

**Brooklynboy444:** wuteva. so we're gonna hang out wit every1?

**Stuyvesant232: **Yes. Saturday. We're going to some restaurant called Dorsia.

**Brooklynboy444:** isnt dat place expensive?

**Stuyvesant232:** Very. But I figure we all deserve it after working so hard in college.

**Brooklynboy444:** amen 2 dat, lol.

**Stuyvesant232: **See you then.

**Brooklynboy444:** bye

**Stuyvesant232:** He was, by the way.

**Brooklynboy444:** huh?

**Stuyvesant232: **On top.

**Stuyvesant232 has signed off.**

**Brooklynboy444 has signed off.**

-----------------  
-----------------  
-----------------

**Author's note:**

**I'm back! The whole theme of the chapter was based on coming back, which I guess fits, doesn't it? So yeah. I'm not dead. Expect more chapters, too. Funny ones, because this one was sorta boring. Heh. **


	7. Airports, Baby

**INT. AIRPORT – NOON**

Jack Kelly, our story's protagonist, has just gotten off his plane from Santa Fe and has arrived in New York. In an instant his friends and family surround him and shower him with greetings.

JACK

(excited)

Hey everyone!

SARAH & SPOT & DAVID

(happy)

Jack!

SKITTERY

Cowboy!

KID BLINK & MUSH

Prick!

JACK'S FATHER

(quietly)

Francis.

Jack embraces each one of his friends and smiles shyly at his father. For a moment they stare at each other awkwardly until Sarah interrupts.

SARAH

I've missed you so much! How's Santa Fe?

JACK

(enraptured)

It's like…I don't know. Just...better than I imagined. The people are a bit odd and college is kinda shitty, but just being in New Mexico is like…better than sex.

Jack's father coughs, embarrassed.

JACK

So, Pops, how are you?

JACK'S FATHER

I'm good, Francis. I need to have a talk with you before you go out to lunch today.

JACK

Sure thing.

Jack and his father hug each other quickly, almost forcibly.

JACK

Um…so have you met everyone yet?

JACK'S FATHER

Well, I know Cooper and Jeremy and Alex…

Jack's father smiles at Skittery, Kid Blink, and Mush.

JACK'S FATHER

…But I've yet to meet the rest of you.

DAVID

I'm David Jacobs, nice to meet you, Mr. Kel-, I mean, Mr. Sullivan.

David and Jack's father shake hands but Jack's father gives him a look.

SPOT

I'm Gabe.

Spot merely nods at Jack's father.

SARAH

I'm Sarah…David's my younger brother. Jack's told me so much about you.

Sarah grins a fake smile at Jack's father, who subtly raises an eyebrow at her.

JACK

(uncomfortable)

Alright, so er…Who wants to help me with my luggage?

MUSH

Not I, said the Mush.

KID BLINK

Not I, said the Blink.

SPOT

(sighing)

Oh God, just gimme the bags.

SKITTERY

Nah, I got 'em. It's fine.

SPOT

Ya sure?

SKITTERY

Yeah, no problem.

SPOT

Alright. Well uh, I gotta pee. Meet you all in the parking lot, alright?

EVERYONE

Okay.

JACK

I'll come with you, Spot. There was like, this crying baby on the plane so the mother took it to the bathroom and I guess that infant had like, massive diarrhea cuz she was in there changing it's diaper for like an hour and-

SPOT

(laughing)

I get it, I get it.

Jack and Spot walk towards the bathroom. David watches them for a few moments before heading out with his friends and Jack's father.

**EXT. AIRPORT PARKING LOT-QUARTER PAST NOON**

SARAH

(annoyed)

Where _are_ they?

MUSH

They must have kidney stones or something, because it doesn't take that long to pee.

KID BLINK

I know, right?

DAVID

_They aren't using the bathroom._

SKITTERY

What did you say, Dave?

DAVID

Nothing.

**INT. AIRPORT BATHROOM-FIVE PAST NOON**

SPOT

I didn't actually think you'd come all the way back home to see your dad. I mean, if my dad hit me, I wouldn't show up-

JACK

Well, he's family. If he lit me on fire, I'd still love him.

SPOT

Really?

JACK

Uh…no, actually, haha, prolly not.

SPOT

(chuckling)

Typical, Jack.

JACK

But um…I didn't just come back here to see my dad.

SPOT

I know…Hey Jack?

JACK

Mmmhmm?

SPOT

Get on your knees…

**FADE TO BLACK**

**--------**

**Dear Dr. Barwik,**

As my therapist, I feel I need to inform of the events that unfolded today. I went to pick up my son, Francis, whom I have not scene for almost a year, at the airport. Several of his friends met up with me there, for we had planned to go out to lunch with Francis. After being introduced to my son's friends, we gathered his luggage and headed out to the parking lot. One his friends, Gabe, had to use the restroom, and Francis accompanied him. The two of them had not come back after about twenty minutes, so we all went back inside to look for them. Sarah, David, and Cooper seemed to be searching thoroughly, but Jeremy and Alex were playing on the luggage belt and got kicked out. Finally, I checked in one of the restrooms farthest from the entrance of the airport. One of the stall doors was slightly ajar. I pushed it open, and well…There was my son, giving Gabe a blowjob. I got sick in the nearest stall, and while I was throwing up, the two of them must have run out of the bathroom. I'm writing this to you at three in the afternoon, and I've yet to see either of them again. I'm assuming one of their friends drove them somewhere…

I'm still in shock. If I'd only been around to help raise Francis, then maybe he wouldn't be…like this. I'd suspected that his orientation was distorted after reading journal entries he'd written on Cooper's laptop, but I guess I just refused to believe it, like it was a joke or something. Too bad I'm not finding this the least bit funny.

**Sincerely, **

**Morgan Sullivan**

**--------**

_RIIIIIIIING. RIIIIIIIING. RIIIIIIIING._

"Hello?"

"SKITTERY?"

"Who is this?"

"It's Sarah. What happened to you guys?"

"Huh?"

"_Where are you?_"

"I'm driving to Dorsia. You said to meet there, didn't you?"

"Forget about Dorsia. Where's Jack and Spot?"

"I thought they were in your car."

"They're not with you?"

"No, only Blink and Mush are here."

"Put Mush on, maybe he's seen them."

"Mush?"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?"

"It's me, Sarah. Hey, do you know where Jack and Spot are?"

"I have no idea. OH WAIT."

"Yeah?"

"BLINK AND I GOT KICKED OUT OF THE AIRPORT. WE WERE ON THE BELT THINGIE THAT HAS THE LUGGAGE ON IT AND-"

"Can you put Blink on?"

"-THEN THIS GUARD CAME UP-"

"_Put Blink on the phone!_"

"Kid Blink, President of Patches Incorporated, how may I help you?"

"Cut the shit, Blink. Where's Jack and Spot?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"I was just wondering, my God."

"Well soooorry. OH HEY I LOVE THIS SONG! SKITTS TURN IT UP!"

"Blink? Did you see them leave the airport?"

"SMACK THAT UP ON THE FLOOR SMACK THAT GIVE ME SOME MORE SMACK THAT TILL YOU GET SORE SMACK THAT-"

"Just put Skittery back on _please."_

"Skittery?"

"Sarah, hold on, I'm at an intersection, I can't talk and drive at the same time. Here, talk to Mush and Blink."

"I SEE YOU WINDING AND GRINDING UP ON THE FLOOR I KNOW YOU SEE ME LOOKING AT YOU AND YOU ALREADY KNOW I WANNA-"

"Do you guys _always_ listen to Akon?"

"Pretty much. Oh, hey, Skittso wants to talk to you."

"Sarah?"

"Skittery, can you even begin to imagine how aggravating talking to Blink and Mush on the phone is?"

"They call me every single day. What do you think?"

"Whatever. Do you think Jack and Spot are already at Dorsia?"

"Maybe. Call the restaurant and ask if anyone showed up and said they were with the Avenue party."

"Good idea. Bye Skitts.

"Bye."

**SantaFe1934 has signed on.**

**SeAbIsCuItYAY has signed on.**

**SantaFe1934: **Chicken Parm, is that you?

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **…Jack?

**SantaFe1934: **Yeah. Race. Oh God.

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **What's wrong?

**SantaFe1934: **I blew Spot.

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **You…what?

**SantaFe1934: **I _blew _him. I gave him a blowjob in the airport bathroom and I don't know what to do because he wanted it and I wanted it and geez we both wanted it so _badly_ and we just needed to fuck but we couldn't and that's the best we could do right then…

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **Jesus Christ, Jack! I don't need to know the details. I thought you and Spot weren't serious anymore. I mean, I knew you still had feelings for him…but…

**SantaFe1934:** I know, I know! I feel awful. I mean, I don't think Dave knows but…my dad…

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **Does your father know?

**SantaFe1934:** He walked in on us.

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **Jack, what is _wrong _with you? What did your dad do?

**SantaFe1934: **He puked. I guess he couldn't stand seeing me with Spot's dick in my mouth.

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **Okay. Number one: I do not want to hear every single little thing about it. In case you forgot, I'm straight, and that sorta thing grosses me out. Number two: Spot is my best friend; I need to know how he's doing, too.

**SantaFe1934:** I…I don't know how he's doing. We didn't talk about it.

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **Wait, where are you?

**SantaFe1934: **We're at a Best Buy and I'm on one of the computers. They added AIM to it, so I just signed on.

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **You're at a _Best Buy_? Shit, Jack. Go find Spot.

**SantaFe1934:** Okay, I'll have him sign on from another computer.

**SantaFe1934 has signed off. **

**Brooklynboy444 has signed on.**

**Brooklynboy444: **racetrack?

**SeAbIsCuItYAY:** Spot, are you alright?

**Brooklynboy444: **im fine

**SeAbIsCuItYAY:** What on earth were you thinking?

**Brooklynboy444: **that i wanted 2 b wit jack

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **So you let him give you oral sex? Spot, come on, I know you're smarter than that.

**Brooklynboy444: **i no…but u don't no wut its lyk, not bein able 2 be wit the 1 u luv

**SeAbIsCuItYAY:** You _don't_ love him, and you know it. He's just the boy you turn to when you wanna get laid.

**Brooklynboy444: **don't say dat

**SeAbIsCuItYAY:** It's true. It's true but you don't wanna accept it because you know you don't have anyone else to turn do. Without Jack, you're just Gabriel Conlon, you're just another fag walking down the street.

**Brooklynboy444: **stop it race

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **You didn't listen to me the first time and you aren't listening to me now. You don't love Jack, and you won't ever love him because you're afraid.

**Brooklynboy444: **race please i gotta tell u something

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **You're afraid that people aren't going to look at you the same way. You're afraid that your parents are going to shun you or something. You're afraid that you're gonna get hurt, gonna get beat up, just like what happened to Jack. What _you_ did to Jack. You're afraid to love him because you're a fucking coward.

**Brooklynboy444: **no im not listen 2 me

**SeAbIsCuItYAY:** You _are_, Spot. You can never deal with fear. You freaked out on St. Patrick's Day and blamed Jack when the two of you didn't have a better relationship. That was _your_ fault. You got scared, and you came to me and complained for weeks.

**Brooklynboy444: **dats not it race! ur rong!

**SeAbIsCuItYAY:** Really? Because I'm finding that hard to believe.

**Brooklynboy444:** i mean, i am a coward and all dat but dats not the point

**SeAbIsCuItYAY:** Then what _is_ the point, Spot?

**Brooklynboy444:** i think jack has herpes


	8. My Fault

"Cowboy?"

"Spot?"

"…What are we doing?"

"We're looking at plasma screen TV's at Best Buy and some obese man is giving us a weird look because he prolly wants to steal our money to buy a soft pretzel."

"Can't you take me seriously for once?"

"Huh?"

"You're always making stupid fucking jokes. Why can't you just be _serious_ and _listen_ to me?"

"Whoa, alright, chillax. What's the problem?"

"Jack, we're not…_we're not working_."

"…Yeah?"

"I mean…I can't see this…going any further."

"Uh huh?"

"Look. You like me, right?"

"I didn't go at it with you at the airport for nothing."

"And…And I like you."

"Which is why you let me do that, ok, so…what?"

"So we care about each other, but…not enough…Jack, you _like_ me. But you _love_ David, don't you?"

"I dunno."

"You _don't know?_"

"Yeah."

"_How can you _not _know?!"_

"I just don't! Lay off! It's a big decision, okay? You think this has been easy for me?"

"It hasn't been easy for me either! You know how hard it is to be the one guy that every girl is head over heels for and-"

"I'm not talking about this little relationship with you! I'm talking about _everything!_ My mom's _dead_, my dad thinks I'm a faggot, I'm having a really shitty first year at college, and to top it all off, my two best friends constantly wanna fuck me."

"So that's it? That's all that matters to you, Jack? _We wanna fuck you? _So, what, David and I are _nothing _to you except some human form of Prozac? Oh no, I'm sad, I think I'll just blame my two man-whore friends for everything. Your problems are so bad that you gotta put the blame on _us_? Well, guess what?! You're not the only one with problems!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"And I'm sure your life just _sucks_! Everything must be awful in your king-of-Brooklyn-I'm-better-than-everyone world, right? Oh the woe, I'm Spot and I get laid all the time and everyone thinks I'm great and I'm wicked handsome. Yeah, that's an all American tragedy right there."

"You know what? _It is_. You know _nothing _about me, Jack!"

"Boo fucking hoo. What don't I know about you, Spot? You were born exactly six months before me in Brooklyn. Your father is from Ireland and your mom is from Vermont. I met you on the subway when we were both in first grade and you introduced yourself as Gabriel and I said my name was Francis and you said you wanted to be a T. Rex when you grew up and I said I wanted to be a cowboy."

"Jack-"

"Then we didn't see each other until second grade at Skittery's birthday party and you got him this Power Rangers action figure and I was mad at you because I got him the same gift. We got into a fight about it and you shoved a cupcake in my face and I got icing in my eye and I had to go home early and missed the piñata. The next day Skittery said that you took all the candy from the piñata and threw up all over his carpet. And just knowing that made me laugh for days, which was rare because my mother had died four months earlier and I hadn't laughed like that for a long time."

"_Jack-"_

"It wasn't until fourth grade when I saw you again because your class was on a trip to the Central Park Zoo. We spent the entire day watching the sea lions and then we went and got Popsicles and you dropped yours on your shirt and got this huge stain on it that looked like boobs and we couldn't stop joking about it and then our teachers told us we were being unacceptable and made us write reports when we got back to school and I wrote about how much fun I had with you."

"_Jack-"_

"And then Skittery had _another_ party at the end of 8th grade and you showed up and I made fun of you because you were going through your punk phase and your hair was spiked and green and you wore a shirt that said _The Ramones _ and you said your name wasn't Gabriel anymore, you said it was Spot and I said my name wasn't Francis anymore, it was Jack. About an hour after we got at the party, Blink started a game of spin the bottle and you had to kiss Elise Bernson and you said it was like making out with one of those jets in pools which didn't sound very appealing. And I remember I got all nervous that I'd have to kiss her to but I ended up with Anna Deviaye who was the hottest girl in school and you were so jealous that you kissed her too, five minutes after I did, and then Eric Parrelle said that was practically the same thing as us kissing each other and we told him to shut up and that he was just being an ass because he wasn't getting any action."

"_JACK-"_

"We kept in touch over email and AIM and I went over your house a lot when I was a sophomore and we'd just sit on the computer all day and look at skateboarding videos which took like five hours to load on your desktop so we would just go outside and try skateboarding but we both sucked. And one day we were doing tricks and your tried grinding down a railing and ended up shattering your wrist and your parents weren't home so I had to take you to the hospital and you were crying and you said that not even getting braces in 6th grade hurt as much. I was the first one to sign your cast and I wrote 'Cowboy' on it and none of your friends knew who I was and kept asking you about me."

"_JACK-"_

"Then you threw a party when we were juniors for St. Patrick's Day at some weirdo boarding school you were at and you invited Skittery and Blink and Mush and I and everyone got wasted and we left. And I kept asking you questions and you wouldn't answer me and you kissed me and at first I was grossed out but you made me feel comfortable so I didn't refuse. So we ended up going back to your house and I didn't wanna do anything so we sat outside for awhile listening to the drunks wander through the street and you said you were sorry for kissing me and I said it was okay because Sarah and I were having a rough time in our relationship. Then we went inside and you asked me if I wanted to spend the night and I said sure but you slept on the floor and let me have your bed. And in the middle of the night I fell and landed next to you and you kissed me again and I was really tired and didn't react until you started feeling me up and then we just kind of made out and tried to have sex but neither of us knew how because they didn't teach that sort of thing in sex-ed so we just had to improvise and neither of us came so we just gave up and went to sleep."

"_JACK!"_

"And then your parents sent you to live in Manhattan because you were making too much trouble in Brooklyn but you still had to commute there to get to school and you needed a place to live so you stayed in my apartment, one floor above me, but we didn't really talk and then you became friends with Sarah and you started hanging out with her and the truth is I only slept with David to get back at you for flirting with Sarah."

"…What?"

"I slept with Dave to piss you off."

"…you…took that much of a risk?"

"Yeah, and now I'm paying for it."

"How? You have herpes because of him, right?"

"No! What is with the herpes thing? Geez, I'm paying for it because…well…I dunno. I'm just…really sad all the time now, I guess."

"You? You're never sad. You're never _serious_ enough to be sad."

"You actually believe that? That I don't get sad?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because you always seem to make the best of things."

"Yeah right."

"_You do_."

"Then how come I can't make the best of this?"

"You…you can. If we just get outta here and go home and…we'll be okay."

"Whatever. Fine. Let's go."

---

**SeAbIsCuItYAY has signed on.**

**Stuyvesant232 has signed on.**

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **Is this David?

**Stuyvesant232: **Yes. Who is this?

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **This is Jack's roommate.

**Stuyvesant232: **…Racetrack? How'd you get my screenname?

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **From Jack's buddy list. Um. I just wanted to check in on you.

**Stuyvesant232: **Huh?

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **You…um…you know what happened to Jack and Spot, right?

**Stuyvesant232: **Do you know where they are?

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **They're at some Best Buy. Look, I don't wanna have to break this to you…

**Stuyvesant232: **Then don't. I already know what happened.

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **And you're okay with it?

**Stuyvesant232: **Not at all.

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **I'm sorry.

**Stuyvesant232: **Don't be. I was stupid to think Jack would actually give a damn about me when he came back.

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **Mmmhmm?

**Stuyvesant232: **You know, you think I would have learned after senior year, but no, I just had to be a dumbass.

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **_You're not a dumbass_. If anyone is a dumbass, it's those two. Honestly, who has oral sex in an airport bathroom?

**Stuyvesant232:** They…what?

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **…You said you knew.

**Stuyvesant232: **I thought they just kissed. They…wait…no…

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **Oh God. Shit, I'm sorry.

**Stuyvesant232: **They…who…who did it?

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **Excuse me?

**Stuyvesant232: **Jack or Spot, who performed it?

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **Does it matter?

**Stuyvesant232: **Yes.

**SeAbIsCuItYAY:** Jack. Jack did.

**Stuyvesant232: **Oh my God.

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **David?

**Stuyvesant232:**

**SeAbIsCuItYAY: **David?

**Stuyvesant232:**

**SeAbIsCuItYAY has signed off.**

**Stuyvesant232:**

**---**

"Hello?"

"Skittery?"

"May I ask whose calling?"

"Racetrack, I'm Jack Kelly's roommate."

"Oh, hi."

"I think you need to go check in on David."

"David Jacobs? How do you know David?"

"I _don't_. I just talked to him on IM."

"Yes?"

"He's very upset and I think he might hurt himself."

"_What?_"

"Just go, please."

"Okay."

"Bye."

---

**Dear Morgan,**

I'm sorry to hear about your encounter. It is very difficult for any parent to see their child, whether heterosexual or homosexual, engaged in a sexual act. I realize you feel responsible your Francis's actions, but even if you were there for him I doubt it would have made any difference in his preference. Although there is nothing you can do to change the past, I recommend that you try and encourage Francis to at least be healthy and safe when he chooses to have sex. He is almost eighteen years old, and he makes his own decisions. As for the moment, I suggest that you give your son some time before you approach him with your concerns. In spite of your best efforts, I can assure you that the conversation will be awkward and unpleasant. The least you can do is love your son and focus on how you want the best for him and that includes using protection (you failed to mention if he did during his recent airport…rendezvous). Best of luck to you.

**-Dr. Wilson Barwick **

**---**

Facebook status:

_David Jacobs is…_

Dead.

---

No. No. No.

Why does his Facebook status say that?

He's gotta be joking.

Except he doesn't joke.

_Shit_.

Stupid.

That's what I am, I'm so stupid.

Fuck this.

Fuck me.

Fuck Spot.

No. No, I already did that.

Geez.

Forget it.

I'm not stupid.

_You're stupid._

You have potential.

_Had_ potential.

You were a genius, you were gonna change the fucking world.

And you blew it all away.

Weren't you religious?

You're not allowed to kill yourself if you're religious, right?

But then again, you're not allowed to have sex before marriage.

_You're not allowed to love me_.

You knew that.

I knew that.

Why'd I let this happen?

Why'd I let _us_ happen?

I'm sorry if I let you down.

I'm sorry I ignored you.

I'm sorry I hurt you.

Please.

Don't do this to me.

I love you.

_You can't die if I love you._

Even if I didn't show it, I did.

You're my best friend.

David…

---

"_Don't push me 'cause I'm close to the edge. I'm tryin' hard not to lose my head."_

"Don't sing that," I snarl, not even bothering to turn around to look at Blink. My tone does enough. He shuts up and presses his temple against the window of the car. Right now was not the time for songs about people being close to the edge. Mush whimpers from the back seat and unbuckles his seatbelt. He shuffles around for a bit before leaning on the back of my seat. I don't mean to compare Mush to some sort of dog, but he could definitely tell that something was wrong.

"Skittery?" he asks timidly. "Who just called?"

I set my jaw and don't respond. My knuckles grow pale as my grip around the steering wheel tightens. In spite of my stern expression, I was experiencing fear in its rawest form. Although most wouldn't have taken Racetrack's call seriously, there was utter desperation in his voice. And, besides that, I knew something about David that the others didn't. Sure, Jack had been his best friend, but he'd only held that position since he managed to get into Stuyvesant near the end of sophomore year. You see, David and I weren't exactly friends, but we used to talk about everything. One time, while working on a stupid project on turn of the century child labor, he casually mentioned that he'd tried killing himself during 6th grade by drinking shampoo. Apparently he was very upset about getting bad grades and receiving little attention, being the middle child and all. Now, chugging a bottle of Pantene wasn't very effective, and all he gained from it was countless hours of vomiting, but that wasn't the point. The point was that David was an emotional guy, probably even on the brink of being manic depressive, and when he was sad, well, he got outta control. Even Jack had said that he'd nearly drowned at a swimming pool when Sarah brought up the idea of him having a girlfriend. He's unstable.

"Skittery?" Mush repeats, lowering his voice. "What's going on? You look funny."

I was surprised at how Mush was approaching this issue. He was unusually serious. However, I pay little attention to Mush's sudden maturity and instead focus on getting to the Jacobs' apartment. New York is probably the worst place to be in a dire situation, because no matter how urgent and frantic you are, the other drivers don't seem to care. My breathing increases as I see the time: 5:43pm. Racetrack called exactly seven minutes ago. Seven minutes…David could already be hanging by his neck, lying with blood gushing from his wrists, or even going unconscious from swallowing a bottle of pills. _Dammit._ I sigh sharply and try to take a right, but I'm cut off by a silver Corolla.

"_FUCK!_" I scream, slamming my palm into the horn. The beep is long and drawled out, but it doesn't catch the attention of the man in the car. For some reason, he doesn't even finish taking the turn and just _stays_ there. Blink and Mush look me with wide eyes (and patches), their lips pursed together. Neither of them dares to speak. They aren't using to seeing me when I'm this angry, because…well…I'm never this angry.

"_What are you thinking? Huh, dickhead?"_ I'm out of the car and running towards the Corolla. I'm fuming and furious by the time I'm knocking on the window. "_Open your fucking door, buddy!"_ I yell. The man hesitantly opens his door and steps out, afraid I might throw him to the ground. In fact, I'm just about ready to, until I see who it is.

"Mr. Sullivan?" I say in disbelief.

I neglect to apologize, quickly mutter for him to follow me, and hop back into my car. The clock reads 5:49pm. Why did I just waste so much time? I speed up, take a right, and make my way to David's place. Blink and Mush remain speechless for the entire ride, either in fright or respect for the friend who might be dead. All four of us rush into the apartment. The entire time, Mr. Sullivan asks questions that I'm too breathless to answer. When we reach the third floor, it's 5:56pm. My mouth is dry and I feel sick, but nothing makes me feel worse than the sight at David's door. It's swung open. _Did someone already call 911?_

Inside, Spot is in the living room, shouting into David's cell phone. He looks at us and for a moment appears startled, then relieved. However, his gaze rests on Mr. Sullivan. _What's going on_?

"_Where's David?_" I growl. He points a thumb towards David's bedroom. Blink follows me and Mush stays behind with Spot. Mr. Sullivan is motionless.

"David?" Blink calls. I start to echo him, but my voice is suddenly cut off by intense sobbing.

We peek into David's room, and I know for sure I'm going to be sick. Jack is hyperventilating while his flushed cheeks are paraded by tears. David's head is resting in his lap. He's pale and unconscious.

Jack slowly looks up at us. He catches his breath and chokes out a few words.

"It's my fault."


End file.
